It Gets Better (A Love Letter)

I see the world’s workings through clouded eyes,

No surprise. Clear vision has never rung true for me.

To others, I look broken, like the Titanic, I am a sinking ship

I feel dirty, saddened by my own shortcomings,

And tattered from the sharp razor blade pieces that invade.

So I will continue to despise my very being, freezing reality, allowing calamity

I've lost my reason,

Struck matches to my future,

Even burned down all of my bridges,

Though I have yet to see the light.

She Whom I Love

The photographs I have of her, incomplete.
The mere copied image does not compare,
To her hazel eyes, adorned with makeup,
Or her chickenpox scar on her upper right eye lid.
Her hair, dark, glistens, as light reflects sharply

A picture cannot tell you how she sounds,
Kind words uttered in soft tones,
Her voice is music.

Nor can a picture show you how she moves,
Slowly caressing her face,
Moving shiny locks of hair from in front of her almond eyes

She does not know how beautiful she is.